Laird of the Highlands: International Billionaires IX: The Scots (20 page)

“Aye.” He wiggled them again as he guided her down the path toward the cottage. “Did it work?”

“No.” She glanced away from him because she was close to melting in front of him. “I don’t get the point at all.”

“Ye are a bit cranky after work, aren’t ye?” Dropping his hand from her elbow, he pushed open the cottage door. “We’ll get that fixed, though, with a nice glass of wine and some dinner.”

“Wine?” She stepped into her home to confront the smells of rich fish stew, and a lemon scent that told her the wood furniture had recently been polished. The woman had already been here today and cleaned? “I don’t have wine.”

“I know.” Slamming the door behind him, he strode into the kitchen and waved at the corner.

A sturdy wooden wine rack, which could hold at least forty bottles of wine, was wedged between the fridge and the hallway. It was completely filled.

“When did you get this?” she gasped.

“Today.” He scooped up a crystal glass filled with amber wine and held it out to her. “It got delivered with my new computer.”

“Delivery in one day?” Grabbing the glass, she focused on the wine instead of him. Keeping her gaze off her home all day apparently meant she’d missed quite a bit of activity. The thought made the uneasy scramble of feelings inside her swirl into a mess.

Her mind couldn’t take this in. The smell of good food that she hadn’t made. The crystal glass that wasn’t hers, and far-outclassed any glass stored in her cabinets. The man standing before her with his boyish grin and his lean, gorgeous body.

Ceri hadn’t ever been lucky in her life. She’d come to view luck as a curse, because it lulled a person into thinking good things would automatically come their way.

Good things had never come her way. She’d thought Gareth a godsend when he’d arrived at her doorstep with his offer. But the offer included requirements she hadn’t realized would damage her. At eighteen, the only thing she’d seen was a rescuer. Yet her dead husband hadn’t been lucky for her, not in any way. Sure, her mam had died in peace and comfort, and her brother had stayed with the family. Still, the price she’d had to pay, in retrospect, hadn’t been worth it.

Then there’d been Will.

Will might have given her this castle, but along with it came crushing responsibilities and endless worries about money. The only reason she’d accepted the challenge was because it had seemed like the only way she’d be able to achieve her dream. The grounds, the castle kitchen, the space to grow her plants. Where else would she have found the resources to achieve her goals?

And now this man.

This man was not and would not be a good thing for her. Not luck come to find her for the very first time.

Except for sex.

Her heart shivered and trembled.

“It’s amazing what money can buy.” He lifted the glass of wine. “Take it and take a sip. I think you’ll like it. It’s called a Riesling.”

The wine was dry and bold, like biting into a crisp, green apple. She’d never known much about wine. Gareth had preferred his scotch, and Will had only ever served her a red wine he’d picked up at Mr. Stevenson’s grocery.

“Do ye like it?”

She sipped again, buying herself some time. Because for some reason, all of this overwhelmed her. This basic kindness and care. In some tender ways, it reminded her of how Will had cared for her as a friend—the first time a man had ever looked at her as more than a body. But his son did see her body, and wanted it, too. Yet this was caring not sex or lust.

He confused her.

“Ye don’t?” He frowned and waved again at the bottles in the corner. “I have others if ye want me to open something else.”

“No, it’s good.” It was good. Too good. The wine and the man. “Do you know a lot about wine?”

“Naw. That’s Doc’s thing. He merely tells me what to buy.” He sipped his own glass and shook his head. “Seems to be all the same to me.”

The words were almost an exact duplicate of what Will had told her when he’d poured her the first glass of wine she’d ever had with him.

She laughed.

Lorne’s head jerked up, and his slate-blue eyes grew lusty. “I love when ye laugh.”

“Do you?” She laughed again, a self-conscious sound she couldn’t keep back. “I can’t see why.”

“Ye have different laughs, ye know.”

“Do I?” Ceri took another sip of wine before she laughed once more.

“Ye do.”

He didn’t move, but it seemed as if he’d come closer. It seemed as if the room became smaller and warmer.

A flush rose on her skin, reminding her of the lust bubbling inside. “Okay. I bite. What kinds of laughs do I have?”

“Ye have your happy laugh.” He sipped his wine and the contrast between his rawboned hand and the fine crystal hit her. It was like looking at a Highland warrior dancing attendance on a queen in her fancy court with her fancy glassware. “And ye have your sexy laugh.”

The flush skimmed along the entire surface of her skin. “My sexy laugh, huh?”

“Aye.” He stared at her, his mouth slack, and it was all she could do to stop herself from jumping on him.

The whistle of the stove’s clock broke the escalating tension like a crack of an iceberg.

She jumped.

“That would be our dinner.” Setting his glass on the counter, he calmly swept the pan off the stove and took the cover off. The smells of pepper and onion and salty haddock floated to her nostrils.

Her stomach growled.

And this time, this time Lorne Ross did something truly horrible.

He laughed. A big, robust laugh that surrounded her with light and bright and a strange sort of exhilaration. Ceri knew, right then, she was in serious danger of falling for a man for the first time in her life.

This was more than sex.

Much more.

T
he woman ate
the food with a delicacy that reminded him of a finicky cat.

Lorne focused on her hands.

She had long, thin fingers that ended with short, unvarnished nails. The color of her skin was just as pretty here as on her neck and cheeks. And yet, he wanted something more here. He didn’t like to see the calluses on her palms. He didn’t like to see the red slash of a healing cut on her hand.

He wanted something more for her.

In a flash, he remembered other women’s hands. Both his female assistants wore nail polish. In fact, now that he thought about it, they talked a lot about going to get manicures, and the different colors, and waxes and other female things.

Why didn’t this woman wear nail polish?

Why did she wear baggy clothes?

Ceri strikes me as a woman who’d like to go to town once in awhile.

He frowned as Doc’s words played in his head.

“What’s wrong?” she said, laying her fork down in her half-eaten stew. “Aren’t you enjoying the food?”

He looked up and met her concerned gaze. The possibility she was worried about him made him flush with happiness. He wanted to give her something in return. “I bought a townhouse in Edinburgh.”

Her goldenrod eyes widened before she let out a low chuckle. “It’s hard to keep up with you.”

His frown deepened. Doc said that sometimes. “Why?”

“Because you jump from topic to topic.” She glanced at his plate. “For example, I asked you about your food and you responded by telling me about buying a home in Edinburgh. Those two topics have nothing to do with each other.”

“Here’s where I don’t follow ye.” He scooped up a big spoonful of stew and chewed it slowly until he was done. “Why were ye worried about my not liking the food?”

“Because you were frowning.” She watched him, a wry smile on her face. “But I guess that frown had nothing to do with the food.”

“No. It didn’t.”

“So I guess the real question is, why were you frowning?”

He twirled his spoon in the last bit of his stew and thought about what Doc would say. Fuck. He had no idea what Doc would say. He might as well be blunt. It was the only way he did things and she needed to realize that. “Ye don’t wear nail polish.”

A cool draft of displeasure drifted across the table, and Lorne knew immediately he’d made a strategic mistake.

Bloody hell.

“Just because you’ve inserted yourself into my home, doesn’t mean you get to throw your expectations about females at me.”

The frost in her voice made him straighten in his chair and stare right at her. “I wasn’t expecting anything. I was commenting on something I observed, that’s all.”

Her gaze narrowed and a silence fell.

He tried again. “I don’t have expectations about females. They confuse me.”

A huff that sounded suspiciously like a laugh escaped her and gave him the courage to continue. “I’ve never done well with women.”

Her eyes widened once more and her mouth curled into a grin. “You are so odd.”

That hurt. It hurt as much as any slur or putdown he’d ever received. Maybe it was because he rarely got these kinds of comments anymore now that he was rich. Maybe the tough skin he’d developed as a child and a teenager had grown thin over the last few years.

He stood with a jerk, grabbed his bowl and utensils, and strode to the sink.

“Lorne.”

Lornnnne
.

Even through the hurt coursing inside him, the trill of his name made his cock rise. Along with it came the confusion he always felt around women. Behind it came surly irritation. He slammed the bowl into the sink. “Mrs. Huntsman will be in to do the dishes tomorrow.”

“Lorne.”

Lornnnne
.

He jumped in startled surprise when her hand landed in the center of his back. His cock went fully erect and his irritation turned to anger with the realization she could so easily manipulate his body. “I’m going to code now.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

No male wanted to hear about his own hurt feelings. Not even an odd one. Turning, he made for his new bedroom.

Her hand grasped his arm in a tight grip. “Stop right here.”

Risking a glance, he met her gaze and his confusion escalated. She didn’t look at him with pity as he’d expected. She didn’t stare at him as his classmates had—with sneering cruelty. He couldn’t define the look she had on her face, so he wanted only to go back to what he knew and understood. “I need to code.”

“Not right now.” In a female move that made both of his male heads spin, she twirled in front of him and put her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry.”

Her hips pressed against his and he knew what she was feeling. He couldn’t hide anything. A flush rose up his neck and his face felt like it was aflame.

She laughed at him.

Yanking back, he tried to pull away from her grasp.

“No, no, Lorne,” she trilled, her grasp on him tightening. “You don’t understand.”

Another slice of hurt cut through him. He’d heard those exact words so many times.

Lorne, ye don’t understand what I’m saying
,
his sad mum whispered from the past
.

Lorne, you don’t understand how regular people think
, his first teacher intoned from years ago
.

Lorne, why don’t you understand I’m up to my eyeballs in personnel issues,
Doc yelled in his memory.

He grabbed Ceri’s waist and tugged, trying to get her far from him and his stupid erection.

“Look at me.” Her palms slid to his cheeks and tugged at him, too. “Look.”

Angry, confused, excited, he glared into her beautiful face.

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. It wasn’t my intent.”

“Okay,” he muttered. “Now let me go so I can code.”

“I don’t think so.”

Scowling, he tore his face from her grasp and tried to move past her into the hall.

She stepped right in front of him.

A growl of frustration rushed from his throat.

“I like your honesty.” She met his surly scowl with a wary yet warm gaze. “In my experience, that’s really odd for a man. Most men I’ve known haven’t been honest with me.”

He stilled.

“And I didn’t laugh at you because I felt your erection,” she continued. “I laughed because I’m excited, too.”

Shock, an enjoyable one, ricocheted inside him. “Excited…about me?”

“Um.” Her skin turned rosy and her eyes went dark. “I’m not usually honest with men, myself.”

“Well.” He took a tentative step toward her. “If men haven’t been honest with ye, then why should ye be honest with them?”

His perfectly logical statement caused her to laugh again. This time it was the husky, sexy one that made his heart race and his brain grow dim. Taking his courage in his hands, he stepped right next to her and pressed her against the counter. “I want to kiss ye.”

Her laugh husked once more. “Lorne.”

Lornnnne
.

“Aye?” He put his hands on the edge of the counter, right by her waist.

She looked straight at him. “I like it when you tell me exactly what you want.”

He took that to mean he could kiss her. Leaning down, he slipped his lips onto hers and sighed with pleasure when she opened for him, accepted him.

Four kisses with Ceri.

This was the fourth, his muddled mind muttered, trying to grasp onto the last strand of methodical concentration. And yet he felt as if he’d found the one mouth in all the mouths of the world he was meant to kiss. He felt as if this was the kiss he’d been waiting for his entire life.

Not logical, but right. In some indefinable way, right.

She sucked on his lower lip making his thoughts turn into a puddle of nothing. Nothing other than want and need and pure desire for this woman.

Closer. He needed closer.

Lifting her in his arms, he set her on the counter, the entire time keeping his lips on hers.

“Mmm.”

The sound signaled she was happy with the change of positions, much to his relief. He didn’t want to make any wrong moves this time. This time he wanted to do everything right.

Running his hands over her legs, he pushed, a gentle nudge. She opened, exactly as he wanted, and when he stepped into the heat of her body, the satisfaction of pressing himself into the wedge between her legs made him moan. He put his hands on the cool counter, trying to keep himself anchored to reality before he took this too fast.

She broke from their kiss and gave him another sexy laugh. “You like that?”

“Och, yes, lass. I like it a lot.”

“Why don’t you take this off?” She pulled on the lower edge of his jumper and he suddenly realized his skin was damp with sweat.

He frowned. Would she mind him sweating?

“What?” Her hand stilled. “You don’t want to take it off?”

“No, it’s not that.” He thought back to their earlier conversation and realized she was responding to his frown and didn’t know what he was thinking. He stared at her, trying to find the right words because he didn’t want to scare her off. “I’m frowning because I’m sweating.”

“So?” The dark slashes of her brows rose. “I’ve seen you sweat a bunch of times.”

“You don’t mind?”

To his surprise, her skin flooded with a rosy glow once more. What did this mean? What was she thinking? He wished he had a special scanning machine that could tell him what was going on in that female brain of hers.

“What are ye thinking?” His hands tightened on the edge of the counter, just in case she tried to run.

She glanced at him, and then she gave him a grin. “Honestly?”

“Aye, of course.” He glared at her in annoyance. “How else am I going to be able to figure out what ye want if you’re not honest with me?”

“True.” Her dark-goldenrod eyes lightened, as if she’d realized something profound. “You know what?”

“What?” He flexed his hands on the cool counter, not willing to grab quite yet, but wanting to with every particle in his body.

“I want you to take off your jumper, and I don’t mind your sweating at all.”

“Right.” This was more like it. This was something he could understand. He pushed himself straight and ripped the offending garment from his body. Dropping it on the floor, he stepped back into the crease of her legs. “Anything else?”

“Mmm.” She made the sound again that gave him hope and then she drifted her fingers across his pectorals and through his chest hair.

Electric shocks of delight made his whole body go taut.

“You like that.” She smoothed her palms over both his nipples, and plucked on them with her magic fingers.

Lorne thought he might faint.

He’d never felt pleasure like this. Never.

He’d dreamed of sex with a woman. Dreamed of
him
kissing and touching. But nowhere in his dreams had he imagined what it would feel like to have a woman touch. Have a woman’s fingers drift across his skin, a woman’s mouth kiss his.

The sensation overwhelmed him because he hadn’t prepared. He hadn’t anticipated.

He slumped onto her and the counter, his muscles trembling, his breath hitching in his throat.

Her magic hands slipped past his nipples and along his sweaty shoulders. “Lorne.”

Lornnnne.

“Aye?” he gasped.

“I want to have sex with you.”

Relief and glorious triumph raced through his blood, making him straighten so he could see her face. “I want to have sex with ye, too.”

Her smile was like no other smile he’d ever seen. On her or anyone else.

A smile of complete acceptance. A smile of want and desire.

A female smile aimed right at him.